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Then she turned, impatient. “You comin’, Hank? I need you back there—Daphne doesn’t have the first idea of how to get him cooled off!”
Hank grinned and loped over. With a smile, she tossed him the reins. “Thanks.” Then she put an arm around his ribs and knocked him with her hip. “I’m real glad you’re here, y’know that?”
He swallowed hard and looked straight ahead. He loved Daisy like nothing he could imagine, but he needed to keep things cool with her. It wasn’t fair to ask for more than he deserved—ask for what she couldn’t give him or didn’t want to. He couldn’t risk it, anyway. What if something terrible happened again?
*****
Daisy hated the tight, unsettled feeling she had Sunday night packing up to leave Jacksboro.
She’d finished first on Saturday and Sunday, beating Hasty the first time ever. Lucky was quicker than Gypsy Girl in the barrels, no doubt about it, now that he trusted her.
He was Hank’s horse, too, nuzzling up to the pocket of Hank’s jeans looking for treats, and blowing his velvet whiskered nose on Hank’s arm. Hank had been more affectionate with the horse than he had Daisy all weekend. He hadn’t exactly rebuffed her, he just didn’t seem himself—there, but not really there. Somehow, they’d lost the feeling of being in it together.
Lucky was a winning horse, no doubt about it, but until things were right between her and Hank, she couldn’t feel it like she wanted to.
While she packed up, he hosed Lucky, then put the gelding’s shipping boots on and loaded him. He checked the truck’s oil and washer fluid and coolant. Daphne climbed into Buck’s old truck to start the engine, and Hank followed Daisy to the passenger side. Hat in one hand, he gave her a kind of half-hug then a kiss on the cheek. “Congratulation, cowgirl. You did well.” His arms felt wooden; he had a smile on his face, but his eyes still had that shocked, empty look.
Daisy summoned her courage. “We did well, Hank. I couldn’t have done it without you, you know that.” She leaned to kiss him, but her lips had barely brushed his when he pulled back.
“Don’t, Daize,” he said, real low. He paused and looked at her, eyes guilty. “Red might as well have put your daddy in the grave, and I coulda killed you a few weeks back with my carelessness.”
“Hank, I sure wish you’d stop talking that way,” she said, shushing him, desperately quiet. His words stabbed at her, squeezing the life right from her chest. She’d done well—her best ever—so why weren’t they sharing that special joyful feeling? Why hadn’t he grabbed her, squeezed her against him and let her slip down his front, letting the familiar heat between them build?
But Hank’s face stayed stony, his eyes full of turmoil.
Frightened, she climbed up into the truck and let Hank shut the door. He waved half-heartedly as Daphne pulled out.
Busying herself with adjusting Buck’s old radio, Daisy forced herself to hum along with the Hank Williams tune, trying not to feel Daphne’s concern or let her sister see how Hank had upset her.
Maybe there was no way to bring the light back between them, no matter how much she’d been counting on Hank, no matter how much she realized she needed him. Maybe what had been between them was gone for good.
The thought shook her to the core.
*******
Tuesday night, Daisy finished setting the last of the dinner dishes in the drainboard to air-dry. “Hey, Daph, you want to go downtown? I haven’t had headaches for days now, and I gotta get some weight back on. Let’s go to the Dot Top and celebrate with a milkshake or something, huh?”
“Sure, Daize, that’s fine,” Daphne called from back in her bedroom where she fussed with another round of purchases from her latest Austin shopping trip. “No headaches since, what, Friday?”
“Yeah, and it was just a little pinchy one on the ride up to Jacksboro. Probably the sun. My head’s been clear the last few days and I’m feeling pretty good. Chores are done. It’s way too early to turn in.”
“K, give me five. What are you wearin’?”
“Daph, we’re going to the same dang ice cream stand we’ve been to every hot summer night of our blessed lives. You think it matters what I’m wearing?”
*****
Hank sat at the bar at Hymie’s, in front of his fourth beer. The place was empty but for the pool game and the regulars at the bar. The jukebox kicked on to “Sunday Morning” by Johnny Cash. Just the right soundtrack for my mood.
He’d polished off a burger earlier, and hoped his third and fourth beers would take the edge off the dread of going home.
Rattling around the empty ranch house was eating at him. He couldn’t walk past the sand corral without seeing Daisy there, crumpled in the dust. Ella was down in Corpus with Red, getting things settled. Maybe it would get better once she was back. He hoped so.
The door swung open and Janie slipped in…pretty Janie in a white dress and pink sweater, her feet in ballerina slippers with bows. Make that troubled Janie: her brown eyes were on him, hooded with confusion.
He’d disappointed her, he knew it. Hank hated disappointing anyone. Hell, why didn’t I realize dragging women into my life would wind up this way?
Facing Janie after what had happened with Daisy was especially difficult. If he’d stuck with her, Daisy never would have gotten hurt.
